


Sanctum Sanctorum

by dianekepler



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Facials, In The Midst Of All this Porn: Shameless Fluff, Lawyers, Long Distance Cumshots, M/M, Nate Looks Like Colby Fucking Keller, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Size Kink, Slash, Smut, So Many Brotherhood References, That Giant Laser Especially, felis ex machina, lawyer!au, other latin phrases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianekepler/pseuds/dianekepler
Summary: Nate stumbles upon some of Arthur Maxson's deeper secrets.  50 Followers Giveaway for @fancyladssnacks with a big, big nod to the Dumpster. Love alla youse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/gifts).



> The links are not for clicking, but for hovering your cursor over (for a second or two) to see translations of foreign phrases. Fancy HTML is fancy. But it's for Fancy so that makes sense.

Maxson had a voice that was crystal clear. Even after 22 straight hours of work, Nate was positive the senior partner of Bael, Owyns & Serrah had said “in the foyer, by east stairs.” 

File boxes for their class action against the Institute stood around three or four deep, cosied up to the many PC towers Preston had brought over from the Commonwealth loft, their bare-bones outpost with so many exposed cinderblocks they’d started calling it The Castle. Arthur Maxson’s house, by contrast, was full of architectural conceits that made it look more like some kind of airship than a place to live, although Nate Wexler wasn’t about to judge the man’s taste when he was one of the few people keeping Commonwealth LLC in the pool with the sharks that the Institute retained. 

Nate walked around the entrance hall, scratching his head. Deliveries had been coming in all day and into the night as the team drafted their chronology and case summary, but the extremely important FedEx box was nowhere in sight. He was looking for the best place to start digging when a little “mew” came from behind a sliding panel where Nate had hung up his coat yesterday. He opened it to find a grey cat with stripes and an injured sense of dignity, judging by the way the little guy glared up from his perch right on top of the requested container. Win-win, Nate thought. 

Keys were enough to get through the packing tape. He wasn’t sure what made him actually check the contents before taking it back into the dining room, but Nate thanked fuck for it, because inside there were nothing but toys. Butt toys. A lot of them. 

The top one, some beast that looked like it was supposed to hit the prostate and perineum at the same time, grabbed Nate’s attention and caressed it. Right there on the blister packaging, the words Final Judgement were emblazoned in one of those cheesy military fonts meant to appeal to the queer. 

“It’s in here,” Maxson called from where they’d been working and Nate’s heart nearly stopped. 

The box he’d been sent to look for — the one containing their Institute tech — had been in the room with them all along. 

Nate put the gross breach of privacy back in the closet, pausing to savor the irony as well as get rid of his semi that was threatening to go full on hemi, as in the engine that went into bigger Jeeps and Rams. He was not, he decided, going to imagine the man who was nominally in charge of their team taking that that big shaft inch by inch. He wouldn’t picture a red flush across Arthur’s cheeks, his mouth open, and his feet planted as he worked that — _dammit_. 

When he came back, Maxson didn’t look up from his notes, although he did mention that Kells had brought it in before he left. 

Quinlan, the only man left in the room still wearing his tie, said “And I lost track of it. I do apologize.” 

“It’s all good,” Nate said with what he hoped was an easy kind of calm. They were all beyond tired. Mistakes were going to be made. 

“We’re getting sloppy, I’m calling it,” Maxson said at last. He rolled shoulders that were probably stiff as hell, given how Nate’s were feeling. It was a struggle not to think of the words “stiff as hell” in any other context. Nate put so much effort into said conflict it took him a moment to realize the team lead was still talking. 

“… and we’ll reconvene here at six tonight. I’ll provide dinner.”

Nate sighed. If only the end had come ten minutes ago. Now there was a choice — either come clean, or leave the damn box where it was and let Maxson wonder who knew. 

Danse, BO&S’s [_de facto_](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb) number two had stood up and was stretching. Kells was higher in the pecking order, but it was Danse was who Maxson relied on and the one he addressed now. 

“That damn machine is acting up again. I’ll need your help.”

“I’m on it. Your orders?”

“Americano,” the senior partner yawned. 

Quinlan rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “A hazelnut latte.”

“Got it. How about you, Nate?”

“Whatever you’re having, as long as it kicks my ass.”

“Two grenades,” Danse’s deadpan humor was apparent as he went into the kitchen, the soles of his dress shoes ringing on the marble tiles. 

The rest of them began tidying the reams of regulations, precedents, affadavits, and data on the elliptical table. Yesterday the surface had seemed enormous. Now it looked like there was barely enough room for all that Nate’s firm, with the support of the older and better-known BO&S, would need to win this class action. 

Nate turned to Quinlan. “What’s your take? How many more hours are we going to need tonight?”

Their patent lawyer was putting their tech back in styrofoam after having triple-checked the serial numbers. “It all depends on what Ingram and Amari can tell us by the close of business. But we’ll make it.” 

“[ _Semper invictus_](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb),” Nate gave a half smile.

“That’s the spirit.”

With Quinlan setting one of the speakers back into the VR helmet in front of him. Nate turned towards their host, who was looking of the room’s enormous windows to where gardeners had started in on the already-perfect-looking lawns. His clasped hands were showing off triceps, biceps, delts, and traps. Each set was clearly defined. Looking at that bulk, Nate could hardly credit what he’d seen. Most guys enjoyed some buttplay, but the sheer variety — and size — of that order made it seem like Maxson was either a practiced or really adventurous bottom. The idea that daddy-bear might be looking for guy like Wexler was a bottle of Skyy with a nitrous chaser to Nate’s inner gay kid trapped at a rave. 

When Maxson took a bathroom break, Nate actually wondered if he could get away with cornering him somewhere. It was stupid, but the smaller brain didn't have that many neurons. 

Danse came back with the coffee and served it with surprising finesse for someone who probably made around eighty bucks an hour. They drank it and made small talk — or as small as could be made with their appearance before the grand jury scheduled for tomorrow. As the caffeine for their various drives kicked in, the men took turns making themselves presentable in the ensuite off the entryway before seeing themselves out. Nate went last on purpose. The sensible thing was to admit his mistake before some poor sod who had access to the house caught hell for snooping. But before a word passed his mouth, Maxson was in front of him with folded arms and piercing look saying all that needed to be said — even before the “explain” left his mouth. 

Now Arthur wasn’t a stupid man, Nate reasoned. He’d realized that FedEx boxes looked alike and had checked, probably during his “bathroom break”, to see if yesterday’s hastily stashed delivery was still intact. Nate’s error wasn’t an affront or sabotage. But instead of just letting him come clean, the younger man was just making this awkward.

Unless…

Maxson probably lifted, but Nate did krav maga and knew about sizing people up: the hesitation, the challenging gaze, the whole “explain” drama clearly pointed to a high-powered man — the youngest J.D. in BU’s history, Nate remembered — who didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted.

And that apparently wasn’t _just_ a top. 

Stepping in was a test. Maxson glared but tellingly dropped his arms. To Nate, who’d dated leathermen for years, it was like some kind of big orange flag — maybe also with stripes — saying “hey boy, hey”. 

All this led to Nate’s eyes going cold and his voice dropping to that intimate volume that Arthur was definitely close enough to hear. 

“Tell me to leave.”


	2. Chapter 2

Eyes and provocation and the hum of a distant mower was the sum of Nate’s experience as he stood waiting for Arthur to evict him. Instead, a blush emerged; Nate could see it even in low eastern light through the frosted glass behind them. 

After that it was easy. All he needed to do was hand the box to Maxson with a hardened “let’s go.”

Nate found it promising when they wound up in the master. There had to be guest rooms, yet Arthur had gone right to his inner sanctum — although Wexler’s focus had already jumped ahead to the man’s inner-inner sanctum. This happened so expeditiously he’d found it necessary to adjust on the way upstairs. 

It was almost too bad when Arthur started the shower. The tang of his sweat had gone straight to Nate’s cock the second the younger man’s shirt came off. But prelims had their advantages, like warm stone under his feet, fluffy towels laid out for them, Arthur wet and substantial in his arms, and, not too much later, on his knees. He could work with this. 

It never got old — seeing a lover’s hunger at first sight. Nate pulled his usual trick of telling Arthur to use both hands. There was pleasure in getting his crank handled as well as the in the hint of apprehension that crossed Arthur’s face when both hands actually fit. People thought Nate’s natural gifts got him more hookups, but he’d found a disappointing number of guys didn’t really want what they were all gagging for on social media. 

Literally gagging wasn’t as much fun, he supposed. Then again, that depended on the guy. 

But Arthur wasn’t one of those who shied away; he just added his mouth to what his hands were already doing. That steady pace and the way he worshipped Nate’s cock, sucking all up and down both sides and taking Nate’s balls into his hot mouth, plus the skill with which he managed it, already made him a better lay than anyone Nate had been with this year. Maxson kept at it, too. Just stayed down there even once it had to be a bit uncomfortable with hard floor and all. 

Although maybe the biggest advantage to their shower, one Nate really got off on, was telling Arthur to keep his mouth open at the end. And hey, if his aim wasn’t perfect — or deliberately off — having the water right there usually satisfied any overly-fastidious boys. Arthur wasn’t one of those He opened up with no reserve. He had the sense to close his eyes, stay still, and then swallow when Nate tenderly lifted up his jaw. Beautiful. Especially how he waited until Nate gave both of them a quick rinse before helping Arthur to his feet and kissing the hell out of him against the enclosure’s foggy glass wall. 

“You liked that?” 

A slow nod against the side of Nate’s neck along with a twitch of the solid cock between them answered that question pretty succinctly. He spread Arthur and snuck a few fingers back there to get a sense of what he was dealing with. The resulting moan gave Nate shivers. 

The younger man seemed a bit dazed when they got out, even though it was Wexler who’d just unloaded. Maybe the lack of sleep was making this unreal for him. Nate had that floaty feeling as well, like they were in some alternate universe, but it didn’t stop him from drying them off and asking for the pair of scissors he knew anyone with a beard like Arthur’s had to have around. They worked like a charm for opening packages from the box in the other room. The first toy he’d seen was, of course, the first one he unwrapped and handed over. 

“Guess you can take this.” The statement earned Nate another blush. His response, a filthy grin, was sort of for Arthur’s benefit, although the dire truth was he just couldn’t help it. “Going to show me?” 

The hesitation wasn’t quite a stammer, but it gave the effect. “…How do you want me?”

Would you look at the manners on this one, Nate thought as his soft cock spasmed. “Let’s try up against the headboard. Face me.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut like that comment had physically tugged on him and started to caress himself, a squeeze here, a hand down his belly there. He grabbed one of the various kinds of lube Nate had unwrapped and started to grease himself. It was gorgeous how he didn’t rush, giving his entrance a slow massage before starting to enlarge it. The way he got into it was better than the best solo porn. That unselfconscious exploration, that relish of what obviously felt really good were like broken-in jeans or a good book on a rainy day to Nate — just completely right. 

A bit of stretching and some pointed self-fuckery, with all the panting and bitten lips that entailed, had Maxson well on his way to easing the specialized dildo into place. He stalled at one point and Nate had to help him out with distractions like cradling his heavy nutsack. He left Maxson’s cock alone. It was, in essence, the [_sine qua non_](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb) for what they were going to do next. 

With one last push, the big shaft slid home and Arthur squeezed his dick hard to make sure he didn’t lose it too soon. The hair on his forearm rippled as he bore down on himself. His cheeks and the top of his chest were pink with the evidence of how turned on he was. 

Nate put his glasses on the nightstand and leaned down to kiss Arthur one more time. He imagined what they must look like to the third POV that had been part of his thoughts from his earliest internet-porn days: Nate’s mid-brown beard against Arthur’s soft black. His longer, leaner torso alongside Arthur’s, knuckles brushing the trail of hair from his chest to just above his pubic bone, skirting his groin and just tapping the outer ring of the three pronged toy.

“How’re you doing?” 

“So damn full.” His hands were fisted. “Nhh, gonna lose it.” 

Arthur got an affectionate kiss for that and a purred, “don’t you fucking dare”, which made him whine through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good _boy_.” Nate said with relish. Arthur was either a natural or he’d been around.

See-sawing the ring around got lots of interesting reactions, like an arched back and hips rolling into the gentle. The “oh fuck, please” was the best one. Arthur also gave enough warning that Nate was able to choke him off each time he edged Maxson closer and closer to release. 

The next step was putting some more lube into the hand Arthur had been using to open himself. Arthur chanced a look, one grew concerned when Nate swung a leg over to sit astride his belly. 

“I’m going to ride you. Get us ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

The well-known tragicomedy of “I am in so much trouble” had a brief engagement upon the stage of Arthur’s face before he tried to explain there was no way he could fill and be filled without losing it completely. 

That look — Nate lived for it. Wexler did disaffected pretty well and he used that to his advantage: “I decide can and can’t. Let’s go.”

A meaty fist butting against Nate’s crack as Arthur carefully slicked himself ranked in the top five hottest things he’d felt since they’d started, although it was quickly outdone by strong fingers delving in to widen him slowly. Nate just hung over Arthur on hands and knees, smiling and with his hair in his eyes. Meanwhile, his sub positioned that fat dick of his so Nate could, ever so slowly, sit back and fill himself up as Maxson panted and hung onto the sheets like the gravity could cut out any second.

“That feels pretty damn good, Arthur,” Nate hummed once his ass met packed thighs. The stretch and the sting were perfect.

The familiarity of Maxson’s given name seemed to do a number on the kid. Nate got the feeling it didn’t get used a lot, especially in bed. 

Right before they started to move, Arthur’s eyes opened. They were so blue and so determined as he thrust. Nate obliged him by leaning forward so he could have room to fuck Nate as hard as he wanted. Of course, this meant he had to do something with his hands. Taking Maxson’s wrists back and over his head seemed like the right idea. 

Arthur was so earnestly trying to disrupt Nate’s topspace zen that it was actually working. Wexler’s breathing did speed up. The way Arthur gritted his teeth and slammed into Nate, when every stroke had to be a tortuous exercise in staying on the near side of pumping him full of hot cum was just distilled essence of sex, lit a fuse in Nate’s vitals. It got his gun back to cocked and fully loaded before he knew it, which had him throwing down with just as much lust, adoring Arthur’s bared teeth, as his young lion got closer. Nate bounced so hard his cockhead even beat on a spot near Arthur’s heart and and he couldn’t help but order:

“Do it. Fucking lose it right now.”

Arthur roared and Nate, still kind of in command of his faculties, slid far enough forward to pop off. He got to see the first shot of that amazing climax reach most of the way to Maxson’s throat. It was so fucking incendiary that even with nothing touching him, Nate nearly came as well. 

This action was almost too good. The fraternal order of fags, otherwise known as the brotherhood, otherwise known as that tribe of leathermen who hung out at the Eagle downtown, would never believe Nate if he told them — not that he intended to. Still, a tiny part of him really wished it could, because if this wasn’t the goddamned hottest time he’d had in ages Nate would eat his only Brooks Brothers tie with [schmear](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb).

But they weren’t done yet. 

Once Maxson looked like he’d caught his breath Nate was back at the ring, rocking it back and forth in a way that must have had the inside prong hitting just right. Arthur grabbed a pillow to muffle every punched-in-the-gut sound he made. For a while, that pillow was his life vest, although he did peer over it at just in time to watch Nate trigger another orgasm via his prostate. That was a sight: Maxson cumming dry, his spent cock still trying to rise with every shake and shudder, his mouth open in that perfect o of pleasure under that charmingly confused look in his eyes. 

Even though he could have happily put Arthur through some more paces, Nate judged that was enough. He wasn’t an animal after all. So he got some towels — a warm wet and a warm dry — to clean up and ease the big toy out of what had to be kind of a sore spot, at least from the hiss that escaped during dismount. Then he wrapped everything up, dry towel on the outside, and put the bundle where it wouldn’t get get stepped on and send either of them flying across the room. Hurting guys on purpose was more Nate’s thing, and then only if they’d asked nicely. 

But after all that they still weren’t done. When Nate got back in bed, not too close, because plenty of guys wanted to be left the hell alone after a session like that, Arthur rolled over and trapped Nate with an arm. That felt fucking amazing. Then the arm slid down and the hand attached to it claimed something a boyfriend in law school had once referred to as [_volenti non fit injuria_](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb). Maxson squeezed and stroked for a while as if testing. 

“Might want to watch what you’re doing there.” Wexler’s voice was gravelly with fatigue. 

“So you don’t want to fuck me?” 

Nate clearly hadn’t heard right. He looked at Arthur, whose eyes were open. [_Oy ge-fucking-valt._](http://diane-kepler.livejournal.com/View?docid=dfd5p4tm_5d9fdb4hb)

But damned if he wasn’t interested. And they were already so stretched and residually slick that it was barely any trouble to put Arthur, ass over tits, practically crosswise on the bed and greedily immerse himself in the vise-grip of what he’d been fantasizing about since he’d first run into that incriminating delivery. 

The shape of Maxson’s mouth, the hunched brows, the way his triceps bulged as he hung onto the pillow behind him, even the way his balls swung as as Nate had his leisurely way with the man, amounted such huge tower of lust that didn’t take long at all to collapse on top of Nate and nearly end him. They groaned together, moved together as Nate gave up everything he had left, and then slid down and lay together, oblivious to anything but the tangle of furred limbs and their warm, postcoital haze. 

Nate drowsed. He must have dreamed, because there were recollections of leading a giant robot into battle when the afternoon sun woke him.

His smartwatch said it was late — too late to get home and change before they were supposed to meet up again, but he was not about to do the summary prep of shame with every senior lawyer in Maxson’s firm at the table, so he was going to have to figure something out pronto. Maybe buy couple things and grab a shower at the gym.

Despite the looming threat of leading-edge-of-rush-our traffic, Nate felt surprisingly well-rested. He flipped aside the extra blanket that Arthur must have dropped over him at some point, but didn’t get upright away. Another FedEx box, this time from their SameDay service, was in reach, bearing a Post-It that said “N: No mistake this time. - A”

Inside the cardboard and the familiar red Fallon’s box were a shirt, a really nice tie, dark socks, and some decidedly un-lawyerly bikini briefs by Andrew Christian. Nate’s grin felt a mile wide. 

He got cleaned up and dressed to find Maxson already back at work looking just as delicious buttoned up as he did stark naked. 

“I took a guess at your sizes,” Arthur said

“Good guess. And thank you.”

“Least I could do,” Arthur’s gaze lingered on Nate in a way that warmed him. “There’s a Starbucks carafe in the kitchen. We’ll have to wait on Danse for the real deal, I’m afraid.”

Nate shot his cuffs and caught the glint in Maxson’s eyes that he’d been hoping for. “Don’t suppose I can get you anything?”

“Actually, I’ll come back with you.”

Life was good. The hall was wide enough that they could walk abreast and there actually were bagels in a basket by the induction cooktop, even though no ties needed eating. 

“Sleep well?” Arthur was pouring out coffee for them. 

“Like the dead. Cream, no sugar please.” Nate saw Arthur took his black, like the old joke about lawyers’ souls. When he pressed the cup into Nate’s hands their fingers didn’t touch.

“I, uh, don’t have any expectations,” Maxson began in a solemn way. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Nate’s tone was equally grave. He didn’t meet Arthur’s eyes as he blew on his coffee. “Because I thought, you know.”

The tension in the room shot up to somewhere between Toyko and Mumbai, density-wise. Nate looked sideways at Arthur and cut him a mischievous grin.“Thought we’d give those Institute assholes something to think about.”

Maxson’s smile was genuine. “We are going to win, in case you were wondering.” 

His pause to contemplate an everything bagel had Nate wishing he could be one, although it was way too early to be wanting to see him again, and shitty timing on top of that.

Arthur put the bagel on a plate and halved it before he caught Nate’s eyes again. “It rushing things to feel like we already did?” 

Fuck it, Wexler thought. Fuck rules and timing, fuck everything. Including Arthur. Hopefully fuck him lots. 

“You know, oddly enough, I feel the same way.” 

And in case his message wasn’t super clear, Nate stole the bottom part of the bagel off of Arthur’s plate and bit into it with gusto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sanctum sanctorum_ [holy of holies] is a Latin phrase used to refer to the innermost part of a Jewish temple. It struck me as a nifty innuendo and a fun way to tie together all the lawyerly phrases that kept cropping up, because foreign words and language-play are as big kinks as some of the stranger ones I write about. 
> 
> But then I thought, hey, why not make Nate a Jew? I haven't seen that represented in this fandom or in many fics at all, come to think of it. So with the name Wexler (points to whoever can figure out why), the title, and something more obvious near the end, it seemed like some readers would be able to get that Nate was Jewish and smile.
> 
> Then I got called anti-semitic on Tumbr. The irony was not lost, you can rest assured. 
> 
> So the schmear and the _oy gevalt_ happened because I doubled down. Now, hopefully everyone -- even anon's (and yes, I know who he is on both platforms) misreading, misconstruing, social-justice crusading little behind -- will receive it loud and clear. 
> 
> And if anon gets angry, that will suit him. I'm beginning to suspect anger is his comfort zone.


End file.
